


woodsmoke

by glim



Series: samsteve bingo fills [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Hugs, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Snow, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:34:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: "It finally smells like winter," Steve murmurs. He likes standing out on the little patio outside their townhouse while they wait for the coffee pot to finish, more often in his pajamas than anything else, and this morning is no different.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: samsteve bingo fills [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561897
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	woodsmoke

**Author's Note:**

> Written for On Your Left Bingo for the prompt 'the smell of wood burning.'

When Sam shuffles into the kitchen, the back door is open, though the screen door behind it shut. A chill goes through him, but he heads towards the door anyway and pushes it open to find his husband gazing out over the silent, cold morning. 

"Hey..." Steve glances over his shoulder. "Did I wake you up? It's Sunday, sorry." 

"My own fault for marrying a morning person." Sam wraps his arms around Steve from behind, though, and buries his face in the warm crook of Steve's neck. He always feels warm; no matter how much smaller and slighter he is than Sam, no matter how ice-cold his feet feel when he gets into bed with Sam, Steve always feels so warm and strong. "Why are you out in the cold so early?" 

"It finally smells like winter," Steve murmurs. He likes standing out on the little patio outside their townhouse while they wait for the coffee pot to finish, more often in his pajamas than anything else, and this morning is no different. A small sketchbook and a couple pencils peek out of the corner of his hoodie pocket, too. "Cold and a little smokey." 

"Like it might snow today," Sam agrees. "Probably tonight, though." 

"Mhm." Steve looks out at their tiny backyard, then leans in when Sam tightens his arms around Steve. "Hopefully before it gets dark." 

"You'll be out here tomorrow morning to sketch the trees." 

When Sam kisses the back of Steve's shoulder, he hums quietly. His body feels so warm pressed in against Sam's, sleep-rumpled and soft in his flannel pajama pants and the hoodie he pulled on over his tee shirt. All warm layers, and that distinct, simmering warmth that Sam can feel whenever they're this close. That same warmth that Sam curls into before he falls asleep at night, body tucked in against Steve's. Suddenly, all Sam wants is to tug Steve back into the house and make love to him right there in the kitchen, in their rumpled sleep clothes, while the scent of the morning air and incipient snow still clings to their senses, then as it yields to warmer scents of their life together: coffee brewing, flushed skin, sleep-warm clothes. 

Resting his cheek against Steve's shoulder, Sam draws in a slow breath of cold air, catching the scent of snow and woodsmoke at the back of it. He smiles when he kisses Steve neck, then smiles again at the soft sigh that Steve's breath catches on at another kiss. The morning world is quiet, muted by the cold and softened by the dusting of frost on the grass. The sky is white and heavy; they'll have more snow by the end of the day and Steve might pull him back outside as the flakes fall during the longest night of the year. He'll pull Steve back in the house then, too, and tumble him into the pile of blankets on the the bed or sofa, kiss the his flushed skin, and yield the gentle, insistent way Steve loves him. 

"Smells like winter," he agrees, and nudges Steve back inside when the scent of fresh-brewed coffee mingles with that of the cold air.


End file.
